I Will Never Be Free Of You
by KareninaCrawley
Summary: Mary finally learns why Tom kept pushing her towards Henry. Will they begin a life together or will it all go up in flames?
1. Chapter 1

A.N. Before I watched the finale of Downton on Sunday I was so sure that Mary and Tom would end up together. Their chemistry was palpable, they are the best of friends and confidantes, and their relationship actually would make sense. Why were we given all of those scenes of them together? How many times did one or the other seem on the verge of admitting their love? But, alas, it was not to be. So, I have decided to do these characters justice (I hope) by allowing them to be with the person who is right for them. Besides, Henry Talbot is just plain creepy.

* * *

"You're a coward Mary. Like all bullies you're a coward!" He shouted to a stunned Mary. Slowly she stood from her seat, hands shaking.

"You just don't want to understand me!" Came her bitter reply, her pale face cemented into a stony expression.

"Understand you? I understand you better than anyone. How dare you say that," he moved across the small office spitting his words.

Mary scoffed, standing tall, head held high, attempting to maintain her facade. Of all the people she had fought with in her life, and there had been many, it was different fighting with Tom.

It hurt.

"This is all about Henry isn't it? You're miserable so you want to make everyone around you feel the same." She noticed that his knuckles were white as he balled his fist.

Swallowing hard she inquired, "Henry? Why on earth would I be miserable about him?"

"Mary you love him for Christ's sake!" He was shouting loudly now and she had never seen him like this. What's worse is that she couldn't read him in this state.

Perhaps it would be best to come clean. Bite the bullet. She had just persuaded herself to tell him the truth when she looked into his fiery eyes. Every ounce of her notorious courage left her in that moment and she attempted to walk past him. A strong hand on her arm prevented her from doing so.

"Tell me one thing Tom." She whispered as his grip loosened. "Why do you keep pushing me towards him?"

He drew a long breath as he lowered his his arm and turned away, running his hand through his chestnut hair.

"Tom, tell me, please," she begged tearfully.

He slowly turned and huskily announced,

"I want to be free of you, of wanting you,"

Mary's lips opened as her jaw dropped. Had he really been the first of them to admit it?

"Why do we have to free of one another?"

He wore a puzzled expression. Had she just said one another?

"Tom I don't want Henry here because he is not the man that I love. He's not the man that I want," she announced. Every trace of haughtiness that was ever detected in her voice had vanished.

"We can't," he shook his head, spoke those words, yet his eyes said something else. They spoke of his need, his desire, his love.

"Why not?"

"Mary you rejected Henry because he wasn't titled, didn't have an estate or money to his name,"

"So you think I'll do the same to you?" She softly asked, walking over to where he stood.

Her stomach dropped as he nodded.

"Do you really think that Mama or Papa would have accepted me rejecting Henry without me giving those reasons. I could hardly have said "Oh Henry's an utter bore and the only man that excites me is Tom," I'd do that now though,"

He took her slender hands in his.

"You would?" Noting her nod of the affirmative he asked, "What if they don't agree,"

Thinking momentarily she whispered in his ear, wrapping her arms around his neck, "they don't get a say anymore,"

Tom grinned, looked into her chocolate brown eyes, and kissed her passionately.

* * *

Mary sat content in Tom's lap as they made plans.

"We should go away somewhere, for the weekend, just the two of us," she announced.

"Where? Liverpool?" He chuckled as she playfully hit his chest.

"Anywhere! Let's get away from Downton and all of the memories it holds."

He kissed her glossy hair and he whispered, "Well it would give us a chance to get to know each other, so to say,"

She bit her lip seductively as she agreed.

"So it's sorted, we'll head away tomorrow,"

"What'll be our excuse?"

"I don't know, a pig conference?"

Throwing his head back, Tom erupted with laughter.

"Mary you don't honestly think there are such things as pig conferences,"

"Obviously not," glancing at him through the side of eye. Standing up and straightening her she said, "but the family won't think too much into it. If you'd prefer we could say we need to research a new breed or something. Now come along, the children will be at tea,"

He took her outstretched hand in his own and kissed her once more.

"At least there are two people who will be unconditionally happy for us,"


	2. Chapter 2

Tom stood at his mirror straightening his bowtie when there was a soft knock on his door. Instinctively he knew it was Mary.

Opening the dark oak door to reveal her in an exquisite black evening dress.

"Hello," she shyly smiled. "I need to talk to you,"

He went cold as he conjured up one hundred reasons as to why she would retract what she had confessed earlier. It must have read on his face as Mary began to laugh and reassured him that it was nothing sinister.

"Just missed me then?" He grinned leading her into the room.

"Of course," smiling into his kiss. "But I have some news, Granny's home and she wants me to visit her in the morning,"

"And you want to tell her about us,"

Mary tilted her head to the side and nodded.

"Do you think she'll be an ally then?" Looking quizzically at his reflection when he returned to the mirror, cursing his black tie.

"I do, she's always supported me. You still haven't mastered that bowtie yet have you?" She smirked as she sashayed over to him. "Well no matter, I doubt you'll need it on our little trip,"

Tom brought her into a hungry kiss as the dinner gong reverberated throughout the Abbey.

* * *

As the main course was being served Tom thought it an appropriate time to announce his and Mary's "business" trip.

"Robert? Has Mary told you about our trip to research sheep?"

Lord Grantham glanced at his eldest daughter and replied, "No she hasn't . Though sheep would make a good addition. Tell me, are you thinking of breeding them?"

"That's what the trip is about Papa. We want to see which breed would be best and whether it will be suitable to incorporate them." Mary cut in.

"How long will you be away?" Cora inquired as Carson filled her wine glass. The elderly butler wore a disapproving expression.

"Tom? How long will the journey to Dublin take?" She asked wearing a slight smile as Tom choked slightly on his drink.

"Dublin? But Tom isn't allowed in Ireland," a shocked Edith interjected.

"Ireland is independent now. All it took was a telephone call. A lovely gentleman told me that any citizen of Ireland is welcome home whenever they like."

Mary's eyes met Tom's across the table, he was smiling widely yet had tears in his eyes.

"Well in that case Mary, I think we'll take at least a week,"

"Robert why did we not think of that? Poor Tom was exiled when he didn't need to be."

The conversation continued thus but the newly formed couple heard not a word. They were too lost in one another.


	3. Chapter 3

A.N. Don't forget to review, they are so encouraging!

They had driven together to the Dower House with Tom dropping Mary off and deciding to visit the cemetery, to see Sybil.

Spratt had let her into the drawing room where Violet sat clutching a letter.

"What do you call this?" The lady called to her granddaughter while brandishing said letter.

"Hello Granny, how are you. Did you have a pleasant trip?" Mary asked as she took her seat, knowing the letter must hold the truth about either her and Tom or she and Henry.

"Never mind me, Mary. I want to know about you and Tom. I've had a letter from Evelyn Napier who claims you've thrown him over in favour of Tom." Violet's face was stern yet her eyes, still as young as ever, were smiling.

"He must have been joking. I thought I owed him an explanation. The poor man has hoped for so long,"

"So it is true!"

"Yes, Granny it is."

The elderly countess smiled and admitted, "I'd known for ages. Oh how I love to be right."

"What do you mean you knew?" Mary raised an eyebrow.

"Darling the others may be oblivious to your loving glances but I am not." She scoffed.

Mary shrugged her slender shoulders. "I love him, in a way I never thought I'd love again,"

"Well then I'm glad. Now, about this Mr Talbot..."

* * *

Mary met Tom at Matthew's headstone. She silently smiled and took his hand before asking, "Should I tell him or have you?"

"I think you should. I'll leave you to it,"

She nodded as he made his way back to Sybil's grave.

"You probably know why I'm here darling, either you see everything or you're not with me anymore," she began, her voice cracking. "The truth is, I love him and I know you'd approve. Why, you approved of him before I did. But although I love Tom, you will always be in my heart. How lucky will George be to hear stories about his wonderful Papa from a man who knew him so well?"

She wiped her cheek with a gloved hand as the tears began to flow.

"Goodbye my darling," she bent to kiss the cold, hard stone and turned to be met with an embrace from a warm, alive Tom.

As they made their way to the car, Tom spoke. "Your father told me that Sybil's favourite rose is in bloom. He was surprised as it's a month before it usually does,"

Mary smiled, knowing at once what he meant. "She approves."

Tom nodded with a small grin and helped her into the car.

Shutting the door of the drivers side, he asked, "Now what did your grandmother say?"

"She says you can call her Granny,"

A baffled Tom started the engine as the two broke into peals of laughter. It was much needed after such an emotional hour.

* * *

"Thank you Nanny, that will be all. Goodnight," Mary said as she had decided to put the children to bed herself. Naturally, Tom had decided to join her once he heard of her plans.

"We won't see them for a week. I wanted to savour the last bedtime." She whispered as Tom entered the room and kissed each child softly on the head.

"I still can't believe I'm able to go home. It seems like a dream." He muttered as they dimmed the lamps and moved out to the corridor.

"I'm sorry we can't bring Sybbie this time round," Mary sighed, she felt guilty that Tom would return to him homeland for the first time in years without his daughter.

"Just keep me away from any burning castles and I'm sure I'll be allowed back," he joked, realising her guilt.

They began to walk companionably towards their separate rooms, though it felt wrong. They wanted to be together.

"Just one more day," Mary whispered as they arrived at her door.

"One more day," Tom replied.

They came together in yet another kiss which took their breath away.

"Goodnight, mo chroí," Tom whispered as they separated for their final night apart.


	4. Chapter 4

"Are you excited to see your mother again? Mary asked. The ship was coming in to dock in Dublin Port and Tom had tears in his eyes. Turning towards her, keeping his arm around her waist he grinned and said, "I am actually. Do you remember her from the wedding?"

"Of course, she was very kind, although I do not think she warmed to me." It was indeed a true statement. Mrs Branson had adored Sybil, and when Edith and Mary travelled to Dublin for the wedding, she had trouble seeing the three as sisters. Mary was, in her opinion, a snob.

"It'll be different this time. You're different," Tom assured her, kissing her cheek and leading her down the ramp. When they reached the end, he stopped in his tracks.

"What's the matter?" A worried Mary inquired, taking his hand in hers.

"I haven't set foot on Irish soil in over five years," he whispered, wanting to savour the moment.

Understanding fully, Mary decided to lighten his mood and spur him on.

"Tom, you haven't returned from Tír na n-Óg. You won't turn to dust as soon as you step off that ramp,"

Laughing slightly, a surprised Tom took the last step and finally made it onto the dock. He was officially home.

"How on earth do you know about Oisín in Tír na n-Óg?" He asked, still stunned, yet grinning widely. Their bags were handed to them and Tom took them both, ever the gentleman.

"There are several books on Irish folklore in the library Tom. You'd be surprised to know that they are amongst my favourite stories." She explained, knowing well that he had read the tales many times during his years at Downton, Robert's register had stated it clearly.

"You, Mary Crawley, never cease to amaze me," he shook his head and headed towards a taxi, ready to take them to their hotel.

"Well I never thought I'd stay here," Tom whispered to himself as he looked around their hotel room. The Shelbourne, in his opinion, was reserved for the Toffs.

"What's that darling?" Mary called from the bathroom as she was redoing her makeup.

"Mary, did you just ask for the poshest hotel in Dublin when you inquired after accommodation?"

Joining him in the room and sitting on the plush bed, Mary sighed.

"Tom, I asked for the best. Where's the problem in that? If you're uncomfortable..."

"I'm not uncomfortable. I just suppose I have to accept that I've returned a changed man,"

He joined Mary on the bed and wrapped his strong arm around her.

"You have changed, and so have I. But what use is living if we don't let life change us?" She stroked his face and kissed him slowly. They broke apart after several moments and Tom whispered in her ear.

"You know they planned to set fire to this place,"

She threw her head back in hysterical laughter and Tom could no longer remain serious. He joined her in her merriment and all feeling of inadequacy left him.

Dinner was achingly slow. Everything seemed to be at a standstill. Eventually, the bill was paid and the couple began their walk upstairs to their room, hand in hand.

 **A.N: Oisín is pronounced like "Osh-sheen"**

 **Tír na n-Óg is pronounced like "Teer na No-g"**

 **Oisín in Tír na n-Óg is a famous Irish legend.**

 **Oisín was the leader of one of the clans of the Fianna, and everyone thought him a match for his father, who promised to become even better. They loved him, and his fame was sung throughout the land.**

 **One morning at sunrise, Oisín was sitting on the beach, staring out to sea and watching the sun rise, and he saw the sunlight as it travelled across the water towards him, and marvelled at the illusion it made, seeming like a road on the water. Suddenly, the sunlight turned into a vision of a woman riding on a white horse down that golden path on the sea. She came closer and closer, and he saw that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, with hair like burnished gold.**

 **Th woman approached him on her white horse, and sang to him. Oisín was enchanted. She told him that her name was Niamh Chinn Ór from Tír na n-Óg. She had heard tales of his prowess and his beauty, of his pure heart and poetry, and she desired him. She told him that she came from a land where there was no sorrow or death, and where time had no dominion and a hero could remain strong forever. Niamh asked him to go with her and live as her husband.**

 **With a heart full of love for Niamh and a longing for adventure, Oisín leapt onto the back of the white horse and the two went across the waves to Tír na n-Óg. There they lived as husband and wife in perfect happiness. They had three children together.**

 **However, after what seemed like three years, his homesickness could no longer be ignored. He asked to return to Ireland for a visit. Sadly, Niamh told him that time passed slowly in Tír na n-Óg, and the land he wanted to return to no longer existed. Oisín was devastated to hear this but insisted that he had to visit to see Ireland with his own eyes. So Niamh put him on her white horse and told him that he must not set foot on Irish soil, or he would never be able to return to the land of eternal youth.**

 **Off he went and sure enough, Niamh was right. He travelled around Ireland and did not recognise a thing, his heart broken.**

 **He turned the horse around to return to Niamh and his children. As he was leaving, he saw four men in a field trying to move a boulder. Kind-hearted as ever, Oisín told them to stand back, and he leaned over in his saddle and lifted the stone with one hand.**

 **As he threw the stone, the saddle snapped and he fell from the horse's back onto the ground.**

 **The minute he landed, all the hundreds of years that had passes caught up with him. His teeth fell out, his hair turned white, his muscles shrivelled and his skin wrinkled.**

 **The people around brought him to St. Patrick who wrote down his tale.**


	5. Chapter 5

A pale pink light woke Tom from his content slumber. He found himself in a position that he had never thought he would find himself in again. Mary was cuddled into his bare chest and he had one arm draped around her waist. A smirk adorned his face as he recalled the events of the night before. Life with Mary would never be boring, that much was certain.

Looking down at her, a wave of intense adoration washed over him. What had he done to deserve such a beautiful woman? What had he done to deserve two equally yet differently beautiful women? Being back in Dublin had certainly brought back many memories of Sybil, but so did being at Downton, as did certain smells, sounds, stories and especially Sybbie.

Mary however, being Sybil's opposite in so many ways, held no memories beyond what they had shared together. As Matthew had said, and as Tom had trouble believing until after Sybil's death, Mary was different. Long gone was the cold, uncaring Lady Mary who demanded the motor and never asked. In her place was a strong woman, altered by grief and heartbreak, who Tom had fallen in love with.

He recalled their first meeting at Downton. A rather petulant young woman sauntered out to the garage and cleared her throat. He had jumped at the sound and moved from his place at the rear of the emerald green car where he had been inspecting a flat tire. Vividly, he remembered being struck dumb by her beauty. She had worn a crimson coat and matching hat and wanted to go to Ripon.

"Yes, of course, Lady Edith," he had told her, believing that to be her name.

As soon as he saw the look on her pale face, Tom knew he had put his foot in it. Her deep brown eyes narrowed and she scowled ferociously. That was when he knew that Lady Mary Crawley was a force to be reckoned with.

"You've known me two minutes and already insulted me, Branson. I'll leave at eleven,"

Without listening to his apology nor correcting him, she had turned on her heel and stormed away. When he returned from Ripon having faced a silent Mary, he sat down to lunch where Anna had informed him of her mistress' name and told him that perhaps it would be best to get it right the next time.

Had someone back then told him that he would be holding a nude and sleeping Mary in his arms he'd have had them sent to the doctor with instructions to have their head examined.

Mary stirred and slowly opened her eyes and smiled.

"Good morning," she whispered groggily. He smiled back and kissed her awaiting lips.

"I don't know about you, Mary, but I don't feel like moving all day,"

Sitting up and wrapping her arms around his neck, she whispered in his ear, "Well maybe some form of movement might be satisfactory, darling,"

▫️

The waiter brought their food to the door and Mary jumped up to retrieve it, wrapping a robe around her as she went. Tom groaned at the loss of such a view.

Sitting under the rumpled covers, having sat the tray between them, Mary grinned and asked her lover, "What do you want to do later?"

Munching on a sandwich, Tom replied, "Besides the obvious?"

Raising an eyebrow and choosing her own from the selection, Mary blushed.

"Has Mary Crawley just blushed?"

"Oh do shut up!" Rolling her eyes, she poured herself some coffee, giving Tom a sip.

"Well, we could visit my mother, since we only have a few days in Dublin before I whisk you away on a romantic trip,"

"Romantic trip?" An intrigued Mary asked.

"That's all you're being told, now eat up and we'll get on our way,"

Mary harrumphed and grabbed another sandwich before slipping out of the bed once more and heading over to the vanity.

▫️

Tom rapped his knuckles on the wooden door of a rather large townhouse on a respectable street. Had the inhabitants of Downton known that their former chauffeur came from such a place they would not have looked down on him as much as they had. Mary had thought that the first time she had visited Mrs Branson on the eve of Sybil's wedding. Back then, Mary had not been nervous. But unlike then, it was Mary and not her sister in Tom Branson's arm.

The door opened slowly to reveal a short woman, about Isobel's age, with greying brunette hair and a kind face, not unlike that of her son's.

"Hello Mam," Tom whispered, choking back tears. Mary squeezed his hand in support.

"Tom Branson, I swear to God, if you're back in this country illegally I'll ring your neck,"

Mary's smile fell but Tom broke into delighted laughter as he hugged his mother.

"You can thank Mary for this," he said happily, moving so Mary was visible.

Mrs Branson's kind face changed as soon as she met Mary's eyes.

"Lady Mary," she nodded coldly.

A.N: Don't forget to review!


	6. Chapter 6

"Hello, Mrs Branson. It's so wonderful to see you again." Mary smiled. "I'm sorry we turned up unannounced, but Tom wanted to surprise you,"

Mrs Branson raised an eyebrow as Mary placed her hand on Tom's upper arm.

"Oh so he's Tom now? I thought you called him Branson. Now come in out of the cold," She ushered the two inside and shut the door with a bang which made Mary jump.

"Mam, would you like to see pictures of Sybbie?" Tom asked as they seated themselves in the living room.

The elderly woman exclaimed that she would and beamed with grandmotherly pride as Mary placed the photographs in her hands.

"My, she's the image of you when you were younger Tom,"

"Really? I see more of Sybil in her. She definitely has her mother's temperament, which is a blessing," Tom laughed and looked over at Mary who seemed lost for words.

"George, Mary's son in in one of those photos. He and Sybbie are the best of friends."

This seemed to perk Mary up as she began to speak of her son and niece and all of the mischief they had gotten themselves into.

As the two women had seemed to have begun a neutral conversation, Tom offered to make tea and retreated to the kitchen.

Mrs Branson went silent as soon as the door clicked shut. She moved from her seat by the window and joined Mary on the couch.

"Tom writes of you often. Especially so when he was in Boston,"

Mary clasped her hands in her lap, and answered, "He's an excellent man. After my husband Matthew died, Tom was my only confidante. We understood one another, we understand one another," Smiling slightly she looked in the woman's questioning eyes.

"You know, he wrote to me, while he was in Boston. He was in a dreadful state, regretting his decision. I can remember what he wrote. He said: "Mam, I miss Downton, but not only that, I miss Mary. I miss her, and I love her. I love her. I love her." Is that why you're here? Are you together now?"

Mary nodded, shocked that Tom had known he loved her while he was in Boston. "I love him too."

Mrs Branson took one of Mary's hands in hers and implored her, "Please don't break his heart."

"He'll break mine before I even dream of breaking his,"

"I'll admit it's odd, had I known the last time you sat in this room, that you would say those words about my son, I'd have laughed myself silly,"

Mary grinned and dryly answered, "And I would have joined you,"

"I'm sorry that I greeted you so coldly earlier. When I saw you I just recalled a different you, not the woman that Tom loves." Mrs Branson apologised as Mary shook her head, saying that she understood fully.

"Now I want none of this "Mrs Branson" nonsense, you'll call me Mary, even though it's always odd to call someone your own name." Mary Branson smiled as Tom returned with a tray laden with tea and scones.

"Goodness, that chat went better than I thought," he joked and pulled the armchair closer, relieved that his mother and his Mary had warmed to one another.

▫️

"There he was, standing for his first communion, in these little shorts, and the church was freezing." The elder Mary told the younger as Tom reddened. "When suddenly he tells the priest to hold on a second and walks down to me. "Mam, give me your coat there. The fur looks cozy and my legs are blue," he had said. Tell Mary what I did Tom," she laughed delightedly as her son scowled.

"You gave me the coat,"

Mary broke into a fit of giggles and covered her mouth with her hand. The elder Mary nodded, still laughing and continued.

"So he walked back up to the altar, in my long coat with the sleeves pushed up. The biggest grin on his face."

Tom's face broke into a similar grin and the trio burst out laughing.

▫️

The time had gone so quickly that nobody had noticed the clock strike midnight. But when Mary was beginning to fall asleep buy the fire, Tom decided it was time to go.

"Promise you'll come to Downton," Mary yawned as they said their goodbyes.

Mary Branson kissed both Mary and Tom on their cheeks and assured them that she would.

"I'll have to see Sybbie won't I? And and other grandchildren I have in the future," She winked as they said a last goodbye and walked out into the night.

▫️

The room was dark, the hour late, or early however you chose to see it. Neither Mary or Tom were asleep,as they lay enveloped in one another's arms. It was Tom who chose to break the silence.

"Do you want more children Mary?" He asked quietly, hopefully.

She did not have to think twice. It was something that she had yearned for since she had realised that she loved Tom.

"I do," she whispered, her voice strong. "Do you?"

"There's nothing I want more than to have children with you Mary,"

"Well darling, we ought to practice. After all practice makes perfect,"

▫️


	7. Chapter 7

Mary smiled at the sleeping Tom across from her in the train carriage. They had caught the early train to head west for the "romantic trip" he had planned.

She remembered the first time they had really connected on an emotional level. It was after she had said goodbye to Matthew at the station. He was on his way back to France and her small stuffed dog was offered. She wanted to keep him safe and implored him to come back in one piece. It had been early, like this morning, and Mary had walked to the station, not wanting to disturb the servants. As she walked to the front of the small stone station, she was met by Branson.

"M'lady," he nodded, stopped in his tracks.

"Branson? What are you doing here?" Came her tearful, shocked reply.

"Your mother saw you walk down the drive this morning. She thought you'd appreciate a lift back," his voice was as it always was, but his eyes showed that he cared for her pain.

"So she made you get up at the crack of dawn," she walked towards the car to hide her tears which were flowing uncontrollably now.

He followed her and opened the door, handing her in.

"Lady Mary," he called as he sat behind the wheel. She murmured questioningly.

"Don't give up on him. If you stop believing that he'll come back then he won't,"

"Who says I've given up?" She choked.

"Those aren't the tears of a hopeful person, m'lady, they're the tears of a woman in mourning."

Her tears stopped and she took his offered handkerchief to dry her cheeks. Who would have thought that the chauffeur would be the one to make her see sense.

Six years later, after Matthew's death, Mary had been silent for weeks. Everyone had tried to coax her into voicing her feelings. Everyone except Tom. Yet, that changed when he visited her bedroom on Matthew's one month anniversary. She had been lying on the covers of her bed, clad in a black nightdress, her face emotionless, staring into the distance.

"Mary," he softly called as he knocked on the door and let himself in.

Again, there was no reply and no acknowledgement of his presence.

Tom walked over to where she lay and sat beside her, taking one of her hands. It was ice cold.

"Mary, what are you doing to yourself?" He whispered.

Her eyes closed and she attempted to remove her hand from his grasp.

"I can help you, if you'd only let me,"

Slowly, she sat up and looked at him.

"I suppose I have to give up on him now. There's no use believing anymore."

Her voice was hoarse and small, the tears that rolled down her pale cheeks fell from haunted eyes.

"No, there isn't. But you have so many other things to believe in. Your son, your family, yourself,"

"Where's the use in that?" She asked. "Matthew was the only one to ever believe in me,"

"Mary, I believe in you," pulling her into an embrace, which she didn't find unwelcome. "I believe in you,"

It was then, that Mary had begun to grieve in private with Tom, yet it was many months before she even remotely resembled herself.

▫️

The train slowed to a halt in a minuscule station and Tom finally awoke from his slumber.

"Well hello, you were a great travelling companion," Mary mocked as he rubbed his eyes.

"What do you expect? You keep me up all night," he laughed and moved beside her, kissing her softly. "Were you lonely?"

She shook her head and replied, "Not at all, I had my memories,"


	8. Chapter 8

"We came here as children, I thought it was paradise," Tom grinned as they strolled through the small seaside village of Kilkee in County Clare. They turned a corner and the bay greeted them, the sun glistening on the azure sea.

"It's beautiful," Mary agreed, taking his hand. "Have you booked a hotel?"

"No need, Mam gave me the keys of the house when we visited her," They began to walk down the strand line towards a white cottage with a blue door. There was sand in the garden and seashells in the window boxes. Hanging on the blue door was a life preserver. Mary thought it was perfect.

"You never mentioned having a summer home," she chastised him as he turned the key in the lock and let her in.

"Mary, there's never much of a summer in Ireland," Tom laughed, and sure enough, it began to rain and black clouds rolled in from the Atlantic.

Someone must have prepared the house for their visit as there was a fire roaring in the small living room and tea on the stove.

The interior of the cottage could not have been further from that of Downton Abbey, yet somehow, Mary felt at home.

"Well, there goes my plan for leisurely walks on the beach," Tom groaned as he shut the curtains, disappointed.

"No matter, it's so glorious in here I doubt I ever would have wanted to leave. I'm going to go change,"

▫️

Tom sighed as he sat in the tweed wingback armchair by the fire. He had so wanted this trip to be perfect. Kilkee was somewhere he had always wanted to bring Sybil, but never got the chance. So when he realised that he loved Mary he knew he had to bring her to his favourite place on Earth.

As he looked around the room, he was overwhelmed with memories of his childhood. How different it was to his life now. Indeed, he had been lucky and happy, as he was now, so there were some similarities. But what would have five year old Tom Branson have thought if he knew he would be back, thirty years later, with a woman as beautiful as Mary Crawley on his arm? Yet it was not just her beauty that entranced him day after day. Her mind was incomparable, her cleverness magnificent, and she challenged him. How she challenged him. While she could be harsh, as she was to Edith before they left, she never acted without incentive. Mary was not heartless and when she was hurting she took it out on other people. Tom thought, as he sat at the breakfast table that morning in Downton when Mary had told Bertie of Marigold, that Mary had done something irredeemable. He had gone to the office to confront her, and he did. But her feelings confronted her too. Then his Mary came back to him.

▫️

"Here," Mary handed him a mug of piping hot tea. It was not the fact that Lady Mary Crawley was drinking from a mug that shocked Tom, but rather what she was wearing. Over her delicate negligee, she wore a thick Aran jumper and thick wooly socks to her knees.

"Excuse my sartorial choices darling, but I am so dreadfully cold," Mary apologised dryly, settling onto the armchair across from him.

Clearing his throat, Tom replied, "Mary, you have never looked more beautiful."

She stood from her seat and sat her mug on the side table, Tom did the same. Walking over to him she grinned and straddled his lap and kissed him slowly, and began to untie his tie.

Tom moaned as Mary began to move her hips against his trousers. He ran his hands up her smooth thigh as stood up, as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Laying her back onto the plush mat beside the fire, he rid himself of the garment and helped her out of the jumper, planting kisses as he went. They came together slowly and then all at once. Grinding below him and pull him closer, Mary willed him to go faster.

"Patience, mo chroí, patience," he whispered seductively into her ear.

▫️

They lay cuddled together by the fire afterwards, both sated and intensely happy. Pulling her closer, Tom kissed his lover's forehead and suggested they retire to the bedroom.

"Eager for more are we darling?" She inquired raising a perfectly arched eyebrow.

"Always," came his lilting voice, which she could listen to forever.

They stood up and Tom picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, on the way to the bedroom.

Following another heated round of passion, Mary spoke softly into the night.

"I love you Tom,"

The rain pounded on the roof, the wind howled and the sea roared, but none of that mattered to Lady Mary Crawley once Tom Branson said: "God Mary, I love you too,"


	9. Chapter 9

Mary settled into the plush seat on the train speeding towards Downton with Tom beside her. The remainder of the trip had been like a dream, the weather had cleared and they spent their time exploring the coast, and one another. For once, Mary had returned from a journey with a man feeling more in love with him than when she had left. For once, Mary had truly relaxed with a man.

Said relaxation had left her, however, by the time the train pulled into Downton Station.

Tom noticed as he stood up that Mary had not.

"What's the matter Slippy?" He grinned, using the nickname Mary had earned when she slipped on seaweed into a rock pool. Needless to say, it left Tom in uncontrollable laughter.

Mary had balled her hand into a fist and her face was expressionless.

"They have to know Tom," she whispered. "I know we agreed to wait, but we have to tell them,"

He nodded understandingly. Robert was still poorly according to Violet and she had implored them to postpone their announcement, fearing it would bring about a relapse.

"When do you want to tell them?"

▫️

Tom had parked the car in the garage and took Mary's luggage from her as they began to walk towards the house in silence. Such a stark contrast to their long walks on the beach.

"At least there was no welcoming committee. I don't know whether to count that as a blessing or take it as an insult," Mary broke the silence jokingly. No amount of nerves would stop her speaking to Tom, not now.

"A blessing to be sure. We'll say a quick hello and excuse ourselves to visit the children. I've missed them,"

Mary stopped in her tracks. "Them?" She asked.

He stopped too, wondering whether he had said something to upset her, not knowing it was quite the reverse.

"Yes, I missed George and Sybbie. What's wrong with that?"

Mary kissed his confused lips and hugged him happily. "Oh Tom, that means so much to me, you have no idea how much,"

He kissed her temple and they began to walk again. "Well I know you missed them both too judging by the amount of presents in this bag."

Laughing companionably they reached the imposing front door and let themselves in.

▫️

"But why did you not telephone?" Cora admonished as she rushed across the library to greet the pair.

Rolling her eyes, Mary kissed her mother's cheek and blew a kiss to her father and Edith before announcing that she was off to the nursery.

"Tom," Robert called as his son-in-law made to follow Mary. "Did you have a good trip?"

"Yes, what was it like to go home?" Edith added, putting down her magazine.

Awkwardly, Tom looked into their innocent faces and wondered whether he should just tell them now. He decided against it. After all, Mary had a plan.

Truthfully, he answered, "It was lovely, but it made me realise that home is where the heart is,"

"How very poetic," Robert nodded, not realising what Tom meant by it, believing him to be speaking entirely of Sybbie. "Go on up to the nursery, we'll see you at dinner,"

Not having to be told a second time, Tom left the room swiftly and took the stairs two at a time.

▫️

The healing heart of Tom Branson felt whole again at the sight that met his eyes when the door of the nursery opened. Mary sat on the floor with George on her lap and Sybbie cuddled into her side, she had a slender arm wrapped around his daughter as the gifts from Ireland were distributed.

"Daddy!" Sybbie excitedly called as she saw her father standing in the doorway. It did not surprise Tom that his daughter rushed over to him and smothered him in kisses. What surprised him was that George, who had never been unaffectionate, but like his mother was never free with affection, jumped from his mother's lap and ran over to his uncle. He hugged him and told him that he had missed him.

"Well, I see that I've been replaced." Mary joked, standing up from her place on the carpet.

"And I don't even have the presents!" He laughed as he picked up both children and hugged them happily.

Mary raised her eyebrow questioningly and Tom nodded, setting each child onto the ground again.

"Darlings, we have something to ask you," Mary said tentatively.

"What is it Mama?" George asked, his shockingly blue eyes, the copy of Matthew's, were wide and questioning.

"Well, we were wondering whether the two of you would like to be brother and sister." Tom said, sitting down on one of the small beds, as Mary joined him.

"Like Donk and Aunt Rosamund?" Sybbie questioned, climbing onto Mary's lap.

Mary hugged the girl close and nodded. "Exactly! Just like Donk and Aunt Rosamund, would you like that?"

The children looked at one another and looked back at their respective parents. Giggling, they shouted in unison, "Yes!"

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	10. Chapter 10

**A.N: I have altered the sender of the letter that informed Violet of Mary and Tom's relationship. Evelyn Napier is now the informant. This enabled me to move forward with the story. I do hope it doesn't pose any problems, though I doubt it will.**

The family, including the Dowager and Isobel, were congregated in the drawing room before dinner. Tom and Mary had resolved to tell them the news after their meal, to save themselves from the inquisition at the table. They had it all planned, everything was orchestrated perfectly. As everyone rose to walk into the dining room, everything fell apart.

"Mary!" Came a booming voice from the Great Hall. Tom looked at her, they both knew.

"Carson, did you let someone in?" Robert asked his butler who replied in the negative.

"I wonder who it could be,"

Cora did not have to wait long for her answer. Henry Talbot burst through the door, his eyes wild and hair sodden from the rain that fell outside.

"Henry, it's good to see you," Tom said, walking over to the man.

"Oh shut up!" Henry roared, Tom stopped in his tracks.

Robert Crawley was shocked, Carson was startled, Tom understood. Mary was angry.

"Excuse me, you burst into my home, uninvited, and tell Tom to shut up. Explain yourself!"

He turned towards her and then back to Tom.

"You deserve one another, you know," Henry snarled. "Liars should be with liars,"

Mary stood tall and balled her fist. This was not how it was meant to happen.

The vile man was not finished however.

"I will not be thrown over for him. I refuse. You love me, not him!" Like a petulant child, Henry whimpered and stamped his foot on the floor.

"No Henry, I do not love you. In both of your statements you are mistaken." Mary replied, casting her eyes around the room, gauging the family's reactions. Shocked was an understatement. It was the understatement of the century.

"Well you have your answer," A pale Robert motioned for Carson, who wore a pained expression, to remove the intruder.

"And Carson," Cora called. "Please ask Mrs Patmore to hold dinner,"

The drawing room door shut and the family were alone. The tension in the room was palpable.

"Sit," Robert muttered to Tom and Mary. "Both of you,"

▫️

"What do you mean you knew?" Cora shrieked to her mother-in-law. The elderly dowager brought a wrinkled hand to her ear, showing her disdain.

"Mary told me, I had a letter from Mr Napier and she filled me in on the finer details,"

"Honestly, Mama, I am a grown woman. I can make my own decisions."

Cora had tears in her eyes that threatened to spill over.

"And Tom is your decision. Your sister's-"

"Don't" Isobel interjected warningly.

"Well it's true." Cora cried.

"Yes it is but," Isobel was lost for words. She was happy that Mary had found someone, but she had never pictured her with Tom Branson.

"Can I say something?" Tom asked, yet didn't wait for an answer.

"I loved Sybil. I love her still. But I love Mary too, she overwhelms me, all I think about is her. And I know you'll say it's wrong and that we're disrespecting their memories... I don't think we are. I don't think that love is disrespectful." He paused to compose himself and laughed softly.

"Honestly, Sybil would think it quite funny,"

Robert grimaced a small chuckle and Isobel and Violet beamed. The problem lay with Cora who sat in tears.

"Robert, I want them out," came a small, yet decisive voice from the body of his wife.

Mary's audible gasp resonated around the room. Tom took her hand.

"No." Robert refused, shaking his head. "I am not sending my daughter and son-in-law out into the night."

With that, Cora fled the room.

▫️

Mary left her place beside Tom on the couch and joined her father at the fireplace. He seemed contemplative staring into the flames, yet not angry.

"Papa," she whispered. "Thank you,"

As the others began a conversation behind them, Robert turned to his eldest daughter.

"When I saw you arrive home today, you seemed so different Mary," he began softly. "You were at peace. I will not allow anyone to take that away from you,"

"I love him,". Mary nodded.

"He's a good man. Though I am glad that Edith is safely entrenched in London. What would society say if all of the Crawley girls ran off with Tom Branson?"

Laughing, Mary wiped a stray tear and admonished, "He won't ever get the chance to go after Edith, I'll see to that!"

"Will you marry him then?" Her father inquired, a hopeful look on his face.

She replied instantly, not having to think about it.

"Yes, if he'll have me,"

Robert nodded, taking a sip of his whiskey and looking over at Tom who was deep in conversation with the two elderly ladies. They were speaking of Tolstoy's quote: "If there are as many minds as there are men, then there are as many types of love as there are hearts,"

Lord Grantham knew it applied perfectly to Tom and Mary.

It would be strange, but Mary was going to be with Tom. He was happy for them.


	11. Chapter 11

A.N. I read something recently that compared Tom and Mary to Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. I thought the comparison brilliant and it inspired me to delve deeper into their fights. But what is important to remember is that the Burtons fought often, they enjoyed it, but they enjoyed making up even more.

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Please don't forget to review! I love reading what you all think of my story.

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"I think you should talk to her," Tom spoke from his place on the crimson couch in the library. Mary blanched as she poured herself another glass of brandy. To say that she was disgusted by her mother's actions was an understatement.

"No,"

Shocked, Tom turned in his seat and stared at her back. His eyes bore into her and she felt them, without seeing.

"She is irrelevant," a decisive Mary announced coldly, keeping her back to him.

"Irrelevant? Mary she's your mother."

"Well she is certainly not acting like one," she turned, her face red and her voice rising.

"She's..." He trailed off, not wanting to continue his sentence as he caught his voice rising like hers had.

"What Tom? She's what?" She challenged.

"Confused," he shouted, rising from the couch.

A cold wave of nausea washed over Mary as he spoke that word.

"Like you are I suppose. Tom Branson's confused so so too should Cora be." A flailing arm waved to one side as Mary struggled to keep her emotions in check. "I'll tell you what Tom, you talk to her. You can bond over your shared emotions."

She mad to leave, but he rushed to grab her arm, knocking the tumbler of brandy onto the ground as he did so. Neither winced at the crash that resounded through the room.

"What are you talking about? Who ever said I was confused. I love you Mary."

With that, Mary slipped her arm from his grasp and left him, slamming the heavy door as she went.

▫️

Dejected, and yes, now confused, Tom collapsed onto the couch. What had brought this about? Certainly Cora's actions would have angered Mary, but why had they also upset her? After all, the two had never been especially close. Everyone who's opinion Mary valued had consented to the match. Was it that Cora's objections resonated with Mary's own? Now, she she was pushing him away. Weaker men would have faltered at such a contrary partner. But Tom Branson was not weak. He was however, a stubborn man and resolved not to make the first move. Drowning his brandy so as to steady his nerves, he looked around the room, attempting to locate a brush. He grabbed the decorative one by the fireplace, which looked as though it had never been used, and cleaned up the shattered glass. Slowly, he shut off the lamp and made his way upstairs.

▫️

Mary undressed herself, it being too late to call on Anna. Her hands shook and tears spilled down her porcelain cheeks. Tossing her dress onto the bed, she slipped into her nightgown and sat at her vanity. Her reflection frightened her. Just this morning, she had sat in that very seat, her cheeks glowing, soul elated. Now, a hollow woman stared back at her. A hollow, remorseful woman.

"What have I done?" She cried, setting her face into her hands.

Tom Branson was a good man, and she loved him. Yet, in classic Mary fashion, she had picked a fight over something meaningless, something trivial. Had she not just this evening told her father that she would marry Tom if he asked?

Mary patted her red eyes with a soft handkerchief. She had to apologise.

▫️

He was in bed, attempting to read. Yet, the drama of his life, to him, paled in comparison to Tolstoy. A small knock on the door made him look up. She did not wait to be admitted but rather turned the knob and let herself in.

"I don't want to talk right now Mary." He hoarsely, half-heartedly said.

"But Mary wants to play," she smiled seductively, walking over to his place in the bed.

She kissed him slowly, apologetically.

Afterwards, they lay together in the darkness, the silence of the night engulfing them. Softly, Mary whispered, "I'm so sorry darling,"

Tom kissed her wavy hair and said he forgave her.

"I will talk to her, eventually."

"We'll both talk to her,"


	12. Chapter 12

Robert and Tom sat at the breakfast table the next morning. Each held a newspaper, yet neither was reading.

It was Tom who decided to break the silence.

"Mary and I have decided to speak to Cora," he said from behind his paper.

Robert furrowed his brow and emphatically announced, "You will do no such thing,"

Shocked at such a statement, Tom threw his paper beside him and stared at his father-in-law.

"Do you want to know what I think the two of you should do?" Robert asked, also retreating from behind his armour.

Tom nodded, wondering what it could be.

"Go to London and get married, today, tomorrow, whenever. Just do it."

Robert looked into the younger man's eyes. He had seen him change from the confident chauffeur who strode into the library stating that he enjoyed books on socialism, to the journalist who married and mourned his Sybil, and now he was the man who kept his estate afloat and loved his Mary. Robert loved him as a son, respected him in a way that he could not any other man. None of Mary's suitors had met the mark. Each would have their own demands on her, either taking her away from her home or relying on her every hour of every day. Mary needed an independent soul, and she had found that in Tom. The sooner they married, the better. They deserved their happiness, he only wished Cora would see that.

Tom cleared his throat. "I take it we have your permission then?" He asked.

Lord Grantham smiled, nodding. "You don't need it, you've proven that. But yes, you have my permission."

Rising from his seat excitedly Tom said, "I suppose I'll go and propose then," He walked to the door, grasped the handle and stopped. "Robert," he said, "Mary and I both value your opinion. Thank you for giving me your permission, and for being so accepting."

Laughing, Robert rose too and jerked his head. "Come on," he whispered, "let's find her a ring from the vault. You can't propose without a diamond."

▫️

Finding the perfect ring had taken longer than anticipated. Tom had never know that the Crawley's possessed such jewels. After an hour they had narrowed it down to three. The rings lay before him, each in their velvet box. The first was very similar to Mary's engagement ring from Matthew. The diamond was small and delicate and lay in a silver band. However, Matthew had bought his ring new. Robert insisted that Tom not do the same, citing "rotten luck" amongst his reasons.

The second ring was the one that Tom had immediately been drawn to when Robert opened the large box. The large, round, sparkling ruby set amongst small diamonds on a delicate platinum bands entranced him. It reminded him of Mary.

The choice lay between the ruby and an square emerald on a gold band. Tom asked Robert for his opinion.

"I suppose if you cannot choose you should look to the meaning behind the stone." Robert shrugged.

Rattling his brain, Tom remembered that the ruby signified passion and love. The emerald, rebirth. While the meaning behind the emerald was quite fitting, Tom could not imagine the ring on Mary's finger. It was too masculine for her small hand.

The ruby, while rather large, befit Mary. Besides, Tom loved her in red. He held up the ruby ring and nodded.

"This one," he told Robert.

"Good, I was hoping you'd choose that one. She's loved it since she was a girl."

▫️

Mary sat in the living room that she and Matthew had stolen for their own use. She remembered how excited they had been choosing the wallpaper and fabric for the chairs and curtains. It was rather a waste really, they had rarely used it. She had not been in the room since his death, as Tom had not been in Sybil's room since hers. The family thought that it would have been hard for her to sleep in the room she had shared with her first husband, but it hadn't. On the contrary, it had been a comfort. But that room had been furnished and decorated for them, they had no say. This living room had been entirely theirs and Mary could feel his presence better here. In the chairs she saw his nervous face as he asked whether she liked the fabric he had chosen. In the curtains she saw his exasperated sigh as he read the cost of them on a receipt and heard his "Really Mary? On curtains?"

On the walls she felt his arms around her as he snuck up behind her as she chose the wallpaper.

This was Matthew's room. It was "Mary and Matthew's room" and when she shut the door they remained inside.

She did not know why she had chosen to go there today. Perhaps she missed Matthew, or Tom. She had been unable to find him all day. Still, it was nice to revisit the past sometimes, especially when one had been recently been thinking of the future.

▫️

Tom knocked on the door of the room that Mary was in. Anna had told him where she was.

"Mary," he called, standing in the doorway, but not walking into the room. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

She looked up from the spot of the floor that she had been stating at for the last few minutes. His comforting brown eyes met her questioning ones and she rose slowly.

"Do you even have to ask?" She smiled and walked over to him, taking his hand.

"Anna gave me your coat and hat," he smiled and helping her into the red coat he had requested.

"Ah, the red one. Did you know it's my favourite colour?" Mary asked slipping her arm into one of the sleeves and raising an eyebrow.

"I had guessed," he smirked behind her, patting the ring in his pocket.

She turned and placed her hat on her short hair. He patted it down playfully and kissed her cheek.

"Shall we, m'lady?" He offered his arm and she took it, smiling.

"Lead the way Branson,"

▫️

A.N: You can find a picture of the ring on my Twitter- Elegance Personified


	13. Chapter 13

They began their walk as they always had, in companionable silence. Mary inquired as to which path they would take.

"A familiar one," Tom winked, he was incredibly nervous, his stomach was doing flips. She nodded and took his arm.

Something told Mary that this walk had a purpose besides recreation and she did not question Tom's secrecy.

Some time later, the couple stood at the highest point on the estate. Tom had taken Mary there after the Dowager had suggested they work together on the estate. It held incredible significance for Tom. It was the place of their beginning, and of Mary's rebirth.

Mary wore a contented smile as she surveyed her kingdom, it calmed her to be here. Quietly and without turning towards him she said, "I love the view from up here,"

Tom found himself once again struck dumb by her beauty. There she stood, in her tweed walking suit and large boots, a plain cloche on her bobbed hair. He found her more breathtaking in this state than if she were adorned with her finest jewels and wearing the highest fashion. Mary did not need her finery to prove who she was for they did not define her. Her mind did.

"I know you do," he smiled and took her hand. She grinned and looked expectantly into his eyes.

"Mary," he began, "Darling Mary. I know you're probably wondering why I dragged you up here today."

Mary nodded, and squeezed his hand.

"This place is special to me and it's the only place I would ever think of asking this question. So in the place where our journey began, the place where you came alive again, I want to tell you that, I know that I said I will never be free of you, and I won't," he paused as she raised and eyebrow, yet she had tears in her eyes. "But the funny thing is, I don't want to free of you. I never wish to be parted from you."

Slowly he bent down on one knee and retrieved the box from his pocket and opening it while she gasped.

"Mary, will you marry me?" He asked as though his whole future hinged on her response, which in a way it did.

Copious tears wet her porcelain cheeks as she nodded. "Yes, yes of course Tom! Of course I will,"

She pulled him to his feet and kissed him, though it was quite difficult as he was grinning uncontrollably.

"The ring," she shook her head in disbelief as he slipped it onto her slender finger. "How did you know?"

He told her the tale of how he came to choose it as she gazed lovingly at him.

"I would have been happy with either," she said as he told her of his dilemma. "Though I have always loved this,"

"Your father told me after I had chosen the ruby. Though it would have saved a good two hours if he had just told me from the beginning that you had a preference.

He looked down at her ring finger and noticed that she had not been wearing her engagement ring from Matthew.

"Was your ring from Matthew put into the collection?" He questioned as they began their walk back to the house.

"Yes, I thought it best. Perhaps George will give it to some lucky girl in the future." She laughed sweetly, but stopped in her tracks. "Let's get married tomorrow."

Tom too halted and chuckled. "Well we have Robert's permission anyway. He recommended London."

Her eyes widened at his admission. "Well if he's recommended that then I'm sure he has a special licence somewhere."

"Let's do it," he replied excitedly. "Are you sure you'll let me elope this time?"

Mary rolled her eyes and they continued on their way, discussing their plans for the following day.

A.N: I apologise for the shortness of this chapter. Hopefully the next one will be longer, what with the wedding and all! ;)

Please don't forget to review and you can also find me on Instagram as .


	14. Chapter 14

They sped out of the Abbey at dawn, travelling south by car. Tom smiled as Mary drifted off to sleep outside of York, cutting short their animated conversation. She had seemed younger lately, as though her grief had in the most part vanished. His was still there, ingrained within him, as he was certain hers was too. Thinking back to that awful night when Sybil died, he recalled how Mary had pulled him through in the days and weeks following. Mary knew that he should not be left alone after she had caught him in the library one night with an almost empty bottle of whiskey.

"Tom," she had whispered, shutting the door silently. "So you couldn't sleep either?"

There was no judgement in her voice, only sympathy. But Mary's sympathy was different to that of the others, it was not plain to see, usually disguised by the usual conversational topics, such as an inability to sleep.

He had met her eyes and in his inebriated state, began to weep. Mary had taken his hand and let him cry until he had no tears left within him. When he had sobered somewhat, she began to speak of how he could get involved with the estate. It proved to be his lifeline.

She had helped him upstairs and walked him to his room, just as the servants were waking.

The next morning, Mary showed no sign of a sleepless night and Tom was infinitely grateful to her.

His Sybil was his guardian angel now, and she had sent him a friend in Mary.

▫️

Mary had slept for the majority of the journey and chastised Tom for not waking her.

"Now, now," he said excitedly as he helped her from the car. "No fighting on our wedding day."

Mary grinned and skipped up the steps to Grantham House.

"Come along darling we only have an hour!"

What she had in mind, he had no idea, but he followed anyway.

▫️

Just under an hour later they arrived at the same registry office where Rose had married Atticus. Mary wore a very tailored cream suit with a black belt which she had sent from Paris and a wide brimmed black hat. Tom looked equally smart in his dark suit and red tie. He had surprised Mary with an exquisite bouquet of Sybil's favourite roses, and she had shocked him with the gift of Matthew's prized cufflinks. They would bring both of with with them on this journey.

Grinning at one another, they made their way into the room, opening the heavy oak doors together. What met their eyes, however was not an empty registry office. The entire family from Granny to Marigold were seated in the plush chairs. Tom winked at her, delighted that his plan had worked. The look on Mary's face was priceless and made all of the planning worthwhile.

"Oh Tom, did you you do this?" She asked breathlessly as the family rushed over to them.

"Of course he did, how else were we to know?" Violet crowed, clicking her cane on the floor.

The children beamed, excited beyond words. Sybbie knew that she would be gaining a permanent mother figure, and George a father.

"Just because we can't do this in a church Mary, doesn't mean we can't treat it like a proper wedding with everyone we love here." Tom explained.

"Everyone?" Mary inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Everyone," came a voice from behind the pair. It was Cora.

"Mary my darling," she said, walking towards her eldest daughter. "I am so very sorry."

Mary was wary of her mother, yet deep down, knew she should forgive her.

"I know you are," Mary whispered, taking her mother's hand in a sign of truce. Tom breathed a sigh of relief, he had hoped that they would have settled their differences before the wedding.

"Now," Robert exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "I believe we were invited to a wedding, so I suggest we take our seats,"

▫️

The ceremony was beautiful, emotional and mature. Just how it should have been. An exquisite champagne reception followed at Grantham House, and Tom was happy to see that he knew all of the guests, and not only that, he liked them. He was grateful to Lord Grantham for organising it.

The family returned to Downton that evening, leaving the newlyweds to their own devices in London.

The door had barely shut before Tom scooped Mary up into his arms and carried her upstairs.

"Mr Branson, your incorrigible!" She cried, giggling and kicking her legs.

"Mrs Branson, you wouldn't have it any other way!" He retorted, flinging open the door to the bedroom and depositing her onto the bed.

She smiled seductively at him, and lounged languidly in her reception outfit of an ivory silk dress.

"Well Branson, are you coming to bed?"

He pulled off his dinner jacket and threw it onto the floor. They met in a heated embrace but calmed to undress one another slowly and with control, willing the night to last forever.

Afterwards they lay together under the sheets and Mary spoke softly.

"Tom, I have something to tell you."

He pulled he closer and whispered, "What is it mo chroí?"

"I think I might be pregnant."

Tom sat up and looked at her, dumbfounded.

"Please say you'll be happy if I am." Worry etched itself on her face as her heart skipped a beat.

"Happy," he grinned, "Mary I'll be delighted."

He met her for a passionate kiss, which she broke by saying, "We'll go to Dr Ryder in the morning,"

"Let's make it the afternoon," he mumbled into her neck. "I have plans for the morning."

"Oh really? What plans?" Mary breathed.

"Well they go a little like this." Tom breathed, as he began to kiss her neck and worked his way down.


	15. Chapter 15

"Well Lady Mary," Doctor Ryder announced as he looked from her to Tom, "and Mr Branson, I believe congratulations are in order. You are indeed pregnant."

Mary beamed but Tom's grip on her hand tightened, worry etched on his handsome face.

"Will Mary be alright? Can we be sure of no complications?" He demanded of the doctor.

"While we can never be certain of what the future holds, I believe that since Lady Mary already had one healthy birth, the same can be expected this time around." Doctor Ryder slowly reassured him as Mary stood, thanking the doctor profusely.

▫️

They sat in a car, driving towards the coast where they would board their ship. Silence was the order of the day it seemed.

Mary coughed and looked out of the window.

"You said you were glad." She whispered, her hand settling on her stomach and the not yet existent bump.

Her hollow voice snapped Tom out of his trance, he took her hand hurriedly.

"Mary, I am so, so glad. I cannot explain how glad I am. But I'm worried," he paused as she turned her head and met his eyes.

"I can't lose you too."

Her forehead wrinkled as her eyebrows narrowed. "How do you think I feel every time you drive off somewhere?"

"Mary," he began, ready to explain how Matthew's crash was a freak accident.

"No," she cut him off, tears in her eyes. "I know you think it's ridiculous, and I know that Matthew's crash was not his fault, but we both associate these everyday events with their deaths. Childbirth is dangerous Tom, and I will admit that I was terrified when I was in labour with George. Driving is dangerous too, but you still do it, and I will do this. I will come through it." She took his hand, her eyes entreating him to relax.

"You'll have the baby in a hospital, won't you?" Tom asked, his voice small, almost childlike in its innocence.

Nodding, Mary smiled, "And you will walk home, or stay with me overnight."

The car came to a halt in the harbour, the imposing ship before them.

"Alright, you've calmed me." Tom grinned as he opened the door and gave Mary his hand. "Now, m'lady, let's have an adventure."

▫️

They had avoided any signs that signified their destination, Tom had made sure of that. Having arrived in their cabin, which was plush and comfortable, Mary began guessing at to the location of their honeymoon.

"Hot or cold?" She asked as he helped her out of her coat.

"Oh hot, to be sure."

Mary slowly crossed the room, thinking intently. "Have I been there before?"

Tom rolled his eyed and threw himself dramatically onto the bed. "Mary, I don't know every country you've been to!"

She joined him on the bed and hugged her knees to her chest, before listing, "France, Spain, Scotland, Egypt and Ireland." She finished with a pointed look in her husband's direction.

He took one of her feet in his hands and began to roll her stocking down her leg. "Egypt?" He asked, "When were you there?"

"When I was seven, with Papa and Grandpapa to collect some artefact or other. Don't change the subject, is it any of those?"

Tom grumbled and let out an exasperated "no!" before kissing her. "How will I ever keep you quiet?"

Mary lay back on the bed as he began to kiss her neck. "Well not like this anyway, you know that."

He let out a peal of delighted laughter as his wife joined him.

▫️

The next afternoon the happy couple emerged from their cabin and stood of the deck as the ship pulled in to dock.

Tom beamed at his wife on his arm and decided to put her out of her misery.

"Mary, welcome to Italy." He announced, waving his arm to point out the country.

She grinned and turned to him. Joy brimming inside of her. "You, Tom Branson, think of everything." Ever since she was a child, Mary had been fascinated by Italy, especially Rome. The Roman Empire intrigued her immensely and she longed to see the ruins.

Tom had never been told of her affinity but had remembered a book she had carried often whenever he drove her on long journeys. It had been ridiculously tattered and he had been surprised at her carrying such a frayed book considering the masterpieces that sat in the library.

"Rome awaits, Mary." He whispered in her ear as she kissed his cheek excitedly.

▫️


End file.
